


Close Encounters Of The Clown Kind

by RigorMorton



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood, Cemetery, Corpse Desecration, Fear, Gen, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Murder, Near Death, Prompt Fic, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 01:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14660670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RigorMorton/pseuds/RigorMorton
Summary: [This was requested by @timismarble on Tumblr.Request: "Can you do an imagine where the reader is a child and he/she sees Jeremiah during the grave scene? You can go on from there :))"]You slow down to a creep, lightly tiptoeng over the hill, to see what appears to be Bruce Wayne trying to subdue a red haired man with glasses, that's thrashing around in his arms.You're not afraid at first. Just fascinated. But when the man begins to laugh hysterically, things take a turn for the creepy.





	Close Encounters Of The Clown Kind

You run your fingers over the tall, soft flowers as you run through the open field, enjoying the beautiful, fall day.

Most kids your age are creeped out by cemeteries, but you always found them peaceful. 

They're always so quiet and beautiful. 

The fancy headstones shaped like crosses. Bouquets of flowers laid out all over the place, as well as the beautiful field where the wild ones grow. It's really quite breathtaking. 

It's fascinating as well. You find yourself visiting the graves of strangers. Reading the names of their headstones and imagining what their lives were like, just by reading their epitaph.

An odd hobby, indeed. But you find it relaxing, and that's all that really matters. 

You make your way down the little dirt road that leads to the other side of the graveyard, humming the tune of Amazing Grace (a song that always pops into your head whenever you're here), when the sound of voices makes you stop dead in your tracks.

It sounds like two men arguing. You know you should turn and run in the opposite direction, but your childlike curiousity gets the best of you.

You slow down to a creep, lightly tiptoeng over the hill, to see what appears to be Bruce Wayne trying to subdue a red haired man with glasses, that's thrashing around in his arms.

You're not afraid at first. Just fascinated. But when the man begins to laugh hysterically, things take a turn for the creepy.

Then you notice that a dead body is propped up against the tombstone over the open grave, and your urge to turn and run, almost gets the better of you.

Luckily logic sets in. It's a miracle you made it this close without being spotted. The odds of you making it to safety with nobody seeing you, are not good.

You quickly crouch down behind a fairly large headstone, and peek your head around carefully. 

Suddenly several other people with painted faces come running up behind them out of nowhere, shoving Bruce and pulling the other man free of his grip.

They're laughing and chanting, "Long live, Jerome!"

Then you realize the body lying there is Jerome Valeskas and the strange group of people are his cultists.

Fear strikes the pit of your stomach and you're wishing to God you would've listened to your mother and stayed home to do your chores instead of running off to the cemetery. 

"Jerome is victorious at last!" The one with the mohawk shouts. And the look on the laughing red head's face goes from amused to irritated, real quick.

Something shiny slides out from his sleeve and in the blink of an eye, a gun barrel rests under the shouting mans chin, and with a loud bang, blood spurts out on the red head's face, as the lifeless body hits the ground with a heavy thud.

You quickly cover your mouth with both hands, as tightly as you can, letting a muffled scream out into your sweaty palms.

Your eyes well up with tears as true panic sets into your quivering bones.

You're only twelve years old. Too young to die. They'd surely kill you to keep you quiet and they'll probably kill Bruce too.

They'll shoot you both and kick your lifeless bodies into Jerome Valeska's grave and nobody will ever find you.

Your poor mother will never get closure. She'll lie awake every night, wondering if you're still alive somewhere. Oh God.....

A silent prayer goes through your head, pleading with the lord above to get you out of this.

You realize that your cellphone is in your pocket, but your mom wouldn't allow you to have a smart phone. She was too worried about you encountering online 'weirdos' as she would call them, to tone down the ugly thing they really were, to protect your fragile mind.

It's a little flip phone that makes an obnoxiously loud noise when you dial.

You're better off keeping quiet and hoping for the best.

The men continue talking, but you can't make out everything being said.

You just see the red head, wiping the blood off his face with a handkerchief, revealing what looks to be white paint underneath. 

That can't be right. The paint should wipe off as well. It takes you a minute to realize that the only paint, was the flesh toned makeup he was wearing.

"What the hell?" You whisper to yourself, noticing Bruce looks just as confused as you.

The man continues wiping away his makeup, till his face is solid white. 

His fingers spread his eyes open, one at a time, pulling what appears to be contact lenses out and letting them fall to the ground.

He looks up, his eyes a glowing, icy blue with tiny black pupils that are unnaturally small.

You can't help but gasp at the sight of him, grabbing Bruce Wayne's attention. 

He looks over at you, looking confused and then worried.

Bruce quickly turns his head back to the other man, as to not draw attention to your presence, but it's too late.

Those creepy, beady eyes meet yours and you don't waste a split second.

You immediately turn around and take off running as fast as your little feet will take you, not bothering to look back. 

You hear laughter and gunshots firing and your stomach rises into your chest.

You run and run till you can barely breathe and your sides are aching.

You're out of the cemetery and running along the sides of the road, in under a minute and your heart is thumping so loudly it feels like it'll burst out of your chest any second.

You finally collapse in the dirt, down on your knees, heaving and holding your sides.

Looks like you're safe. Nobody appears to be following you. The air is quiet outside of a subtle breeze, blowing the trees. 

Your terrifying brush with death, makes you wanna kiss the ground.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you start to giggle slightly. A natural reaction after cheating death.

Then it hits you….Bruce!


End file.
